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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097727">Found</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/enzhe/pseuds/enzhe'>enzhe</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder'>MayWilder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Found Family, Gen, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Platonic parkner, Stark Siblings - Freeform, Stony - Freeform, Wedding, family fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:01:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/enzhe/pseuds/enzhe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayWilder/pseuds/MayWilder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What he does want to do is run to Tony and beg for a lawyer, wants to bring Peter to their home. He doesn’t just want to help Peter. He wants to be sure nothing can ever hurt him again. Steve wants to curl up on the couch with Tony and look over and see all three kids watching TV and throwing popcorn at each other. He wants to be sure there’s always a warm room, protective gear, and moral support. He wants to help with papers and watch Tony take too many pictures for prom and—</p><p>A rock settles into Steve’s stomach as he processes this. </p><p>He wants to be Peter’s dad. </p><p>With Tony. </p><p>He wants them to be a family. He wants to go to his boyfriend of less than a year and say, “I love you, I love this kid, and I want to adopt him. With you.”<br/>***<br/>or, family is about love, and love is about choice.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker &amp; Harley Keener, Peter Parker &amp; Steve Rogers, Peter Parker &amp; Steve Rogers &amp; Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Avengers Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxcrcfllptrs/gifts">rxcrcfllptrs</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a thousand years late, but we love you a lot, Rax. Have some found family fluff and Stony &lt;3 </p><p>Shout-out to Alex for being a great beta &lt;3</p><p>TW: light violence and bad memories</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><ol>
<li>Magnolia </li>
</ol><p> </p><p>Harley is gonna be so mad at her. Not half as mad as he’ll be at the boys she’s about to lose a fight to though, and that’s even worse. He always overreacts— subconsciously, maybe he thinks he’s make up for all the times he didn’t stand up to bullies when he was little. Now, he’s taller than Dad and never cries, and anyone who acts like the tormentors of Harley’s past get shut down so hard and fast that his own memories get scared. That’s how Maggie figures it, anyway. Harley doesn’t even care how much trouble he gets in for it. </p><p>“Give it <em> back </em>,” Maggie shouts, panting hard from playing the most awful kind of monkey-in-the-middle. The bullies look like the eighth graders at her school—huge compared to Maggie and most of her grade six classmates; nothing but big awkward babies next to high schoolers like Harley. Three big boys and Maggie’s precious art portfolio held up tauntingly by the one who seems to be in charge.</p><p>“Cool your itty-bitty tits,” the leader-bully mocks. “We’re helping you out! We’re doing a series on what random people keep in their bags. You’ll be Tik-Tok famous!” His sniggering sidekick is holding his phone up, probably already recording.</p><p>“I promise you’ll regret this,” Maggie warns, swallowing fear and biting down hard when it tries to come back up. She absolutely hates that she's starting to cry. Her Christmas present for Dad and Steve (and her deepest, dearest Christmas wish) is in that portfolio. She’s been working on it for two months. When her art club teacher said it turned out amazing, Maggie was so proud that she couldn’t wait for Harley to come pick her up. She started skipping down the sidewalk on her own, too excited to stand still. It’s only six blocks from her school to his - she’s not a baby, she doesn’t need an overprotective brother meeting her at the door—or all the girls in her class gathering to giggle over how hot they think her dumb brother is. Today was a good day in a whole row of really good days, and that made  her confident. So confident, that she ruined everything.</p><p><em> Not my fault, </em> Maggie reminds herself fiercely, tightening her backpack straps and looking around  quickly for a weapon. <em> I’m not the one ruining it. It’s these turds. I didn’t do anything to them. </em> Yet.</p><p>She’s scooping up gross, gritty, half-frozen slush from the snow-plow pile at the edge of the sidewalk before the stupid boys are halfway through their Tik-Tok intro. Leader-bully starts to unsnap the portfolio case’s leather cover—it’s a super nice case. Captain America gave it to her.</p><p>Maggie's double-handful of dirty snow soups him right in the face. While his mouth is wide open. He spits swears and street-shit and throws her portfolio to the ground, now reaching for Maggie instead.</p><p>“I hate you!” Maggie yells. She backs up, but just to grab more slush.The first handful misses, the second hits one of the sidekicks. A passerby steps on one of Maggie’s drawings, , too preoccupied by pretending not to see the big boys closing in on her. Maggie stares down at her precious portfolio scattered along the sidewalk and feels rage build within her. “I didn’t do anything to you! Eat shit, shitheads—” she begins to crouch to pick up more ice to throw, but the biggest boy is too close. Maggie panics and surges forward instead, shoving him away with both hands. He just laughs at her while grabbing her wrists, wrenching her arms above her head. Maggie spits and it lands on his coat, but he doesn’t let go. </p><p>“Hey now, boys,” a woman coming down the sidewalk says, hesitating as if she wants to intervene, but also wants to continue on with her delinquent free day.. </p><p>“Keep moving, lady,” one of the boys says. Maggie uses the distraction to kick the bully holding her right in the crotch, just like Harley taught her. </p><p>In an instant, she’s free. Her attacker drops Maggie in favor of doubling over in pain . Part of her feels guilty, but he deserved it. He <em> deserved </em>it. Maggie wipes angrily at hot-cold tears streaming over her cheeks, shoves past an uncertain sidekick to try to get to her art. The most important one hasn’t been stepped on—yet—</p><p>“What, you think we’re just gonna let you go after that?”</p><p>Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. </p><p><em> Harley I need you </em> — <em> where’s my stupid brother when I need </em>—</p><p>“Yep, that’s exactly what you’re going to do,” a new voice says, and suddenly there’s strong shoulders and a steady voice between Maggie and the bully-boys, just where Harley would stand if her wishes had actually brought him here. The new kid isn’t as tall as any of the bullies and certainly not as heavy, but he doesn’t look afraid. At all. </p><p>One of the sidekicks laughs. “What is this, Sissies Assemble?”</p><p>“Try me and find out. And then get some therapy! Targeting people who don’t have the resources to protect themselves for your own amusement is a serious character fault. And possibly symptomatic of unhealed childhood hurt and a really unhealthy coping mechanism. You should really get that checked out!”</p><p>Okay, he sounds cool. All calm and confident. But unless he’s a secret kung-fu master or something, Maggie’s kinda agreeing with the gathering, sniggering bully trio: this kid doesn’t look like much more of a threat than Maggie was while alone. The ringleader has pretty much recovered from the only real damage she scored, and now it’s less about mean kids entertaining themselves and more about proving a point, but no way Maggie’s wasting this. She wipes her face on her sleeve, keeps her finger pressed on the lock screen button on her phone until it vibrates three times. Harley’s received her emergency alert and location, a failsafe she both feels guilty for using and stupid for not using sooner. Then, she’s down on hands and knees, frantically gathering up her art. </p><p>The most important one seems to be okay. A little stained around the edges, but it’s not ruined. It’s not gone. </p><p>Maggie gets her work back in its portfolio as quickly as she can, listening to every bad word those mean boys are shouting at her defender over the pounding rush of blood in her ears. She looks up as Head Bully throws the first punch—sees Mystery Kid <em> catch it </em>plus the follow-up grab. Then he pushes—looks weird ‘cause it’s hesitant, almost gentle—and that big boy goes tumbling on his ass, eyes huge with a shock Maggie shares. </p><p>With their leader down, the sidekicks close in together,and maybe this kid really <em> is </em> a kung fu master, because he twists this way and that until one of the bullies accidentally clocks the other, and that one starts crying while the other keeps shouting the same dirty words over and over, and Ringleader-Bully gets to his feet and starts sneaking away. </p><p>There’s a moment where the swearing stops and everyone’s just kind of hanging there catching their breath, when Mystery Kid says quietly, “That enough? We done?” The two bullies look at him, back at each other, and then frantically search for their leader, who’s already booking it down the block like the coward Harley promises all bullies secretly are.</p><p>After that, it takes less than two seconds for the stupid sidekicks to take off after their leader.</p><p>Mystery Kid turns around. “You okay? Sorry I didn’t get here sooner! I mean of course you’re not okay, no one should ever deal with that crap. But are you hurt? Anything scraped, sprained, bleeding?”</p><p>“I’m okay,” Maggie whispers. At this totally ridiculous time when the bullies are gone and her art is mostly okay, while facing her handsome rescuer with his kind face and big, concerned puppy-dog eyes —she bursts out crying uncontrollably. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Maggie  sobs. Tries to tell him again that she’s totally fine and very grateful; her brother will be here soon - he can go if he needs to. It’s a garbled, hiccuping mess and her phone won’t stop buzzing, and she should answer it and she really, really needs a tissue—</p><p>“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Mystery Kid keeps telling her. “That was really scary, and you were a total badass back there. Sometimes this happens after a fight, you know? Once your body knows you’re safe, it’s all, ‘cool, let’s cry now!’. Happens to everyone. Shoot, why can’t I find—I swear I had a pack of Kleenex in here somewhere—” between her tears she sees him digging through his backpack, looking for tissues. He’s flustered and blushing a little, and it’s so different from the cool courage he showed when he stepped in to help some random little girl getting bullied on the streets that a hiccup catches on a giggle. </p><p>“Um, you could use my sleeve? It’s mostly clean? Aha! Found one! Starting to feel better?”</p><p>Maggie nods. Accepts the offered tissue, mops up her face. Finally gets out a clear enough ‘<em> thank you.’ </em></p><p>“Hey, no problem,” he says. “Did any of your art survive? Gosh, I shoulda been faster. I only caught a glimpse, but what I saw was <em> really </em> good.”</p><p>“The most important one survived,” she says, offering as much of a smile as she can. “...wanna see?”</p><p>“I would be honored,” Mystery Kid says solemnly.</p><p>She pulls her Christmas project out of her portfolio. It’s a Coat of Arms inspired by a unit on medieval heraldry from last year’s social studies class. She worked on the design for months before she started painting.</p><p>“Whoa, this is <em> amazing. </em>This symbolizes Iron Man, right? And that’s—that’s for Captain America? It’s perfect. I don’t recognize these—”</p><p>“Those are for my brother and me,” she says. </p><p>“Wow, like you’re part of the Avengers! That’s the dream!”</p><p>“Like a family,” she says. Definitely the dream. “I’m Maggie, by the way. Magnolia Keener, but you can call me Maggie.”</p><p>“Enchanted to meet you, Maggie,” her rescuer says. He starts to say his name, but at the same time Maggie’s own name is shouted. The exclamation echoes, loud and panicked, from the end of the block. </p><p>“Harley!” she shouts. <em> Should have called him back! </em> “Harley, I’m right here! I’m okay! I’m here!”</p><p> Maggie lets out a laugh through her sobs as she watches her idiot brother almost kill himself running through traffic to cross the street. Tires screech,horns blare and Maggie shrieks, but in an instant Harley’s there, perfectly fine, grabbing her in a hug so tight and  fast that it squeezes her lungs. A moment lapses and Harley pushes her away just as fast, looking around wildly for a threat—zeroes in on Mystery Kid—shoves Maggie behind him. </p><p>“What did you do?” he hisses, harsh and so threatening her rescuer takes a halting step back. Maggie kind of wants to back away herself. “Tried to steal something? Mug a little girl? Don’t even think about running. Unless you think you can outrun Captain America, <em> punk </em>. And that’s if you outrun me.”</p><p>“I was trying to help—wow, you two are really into Captain America, huh? But I didn’t do anything to Maggie. Just gave her a hand—she was doing pretty awesome, actually—”</p><p>“Exactly! He was <em> helping </em>me!”</p><p>“It’s okay, Maggie. Really into Captain America? Stay right there, I want to see the look on your face when he shows up. He hates bullies almost as much as I do—”</p><p>“HARLEY!” She doesn’t mean to stomp her foot. But her foot stomps and it works: her idiot brother startles out of his panicky aggression long enough to actually <em> listen. </em> “There were these three big boys messing with me. They took—” the urge to start crying again hits her by surprise, and she swallows hard, chin wobbling. “—t-took my portfolio, and were going to—to go through it and film it, they said it was for Tik-Tok, and they wouldn’t give it back so I threw snow at them and then they started fighting me and <em> then </em> he—” she holds her hand out towards Mystery Kid—” <em> saved </em> me.”</p><p>There’s a couple seconds of really awkward silence. Mystery Kid discreetly passes her another tissue. </p><p>“Oh,” Harley says. “Oh. Um. I...sorry. And...thank you.”</p><p>“No problem,” Mystery Kid says, all smiley and relieved. “Looks like everyone’s good, then, I’ll be going—”</p><p>“I’m Harley,” Harley says, sticking his hand out. “Harley Keener.”</p><p>Mystery Kid hesitates, then shakes it. “Peter Par—just Peter.”</p><p>Peter. That’s a good name. </p><p>“Peter was awesome, Harley,” Maggie chirps. “Fought all three boys at once. I kicked one in the nuts like you taught me but he got back up so Peter had to deal with all three of them. They went running at the end! You shoulda seen—”</p><p>“Nah, they didn’t really want to fight,” Peter says, rubbing his neck and blushing again. Harley is looking him over with that look he gets when he’s solving an engineering problem. Harley really likes engineering problems. “Anyway, I should really get going—so glad you’re okay, Maggie, keep up the art, you’re amazing—”</p><p>“Hey, wait,” Harley’s saying. Peter is backing away. “I—I owe you. Want to, I don’t know, get dinner or something? Grab some pizza?”</p><p>“...Pizza?” For a moment Peter looks like he’s going to change his mind. He sounds hungry. Actually, now that Maggie’s calmed down and really looking, he looks hungry. More than it’s-been-a-long-time-since-lunch hungry. </p><p>“Yeah, or burgers, or shawarma, or Korean—” Harley’s looking around the street, listing off nearby restaurants. “Whatever you want.”</p><p>“Um, I should really——<em> holy shit that’s Captain America. </em>”</p><p>Maggie follows Peter’s bugged-out gaze to where Steve’s motorcycle peels down the block, skidding to an illegally-parked stop. Steve sets the kickstand and leaps off in the same motion, vaults over a legally-parked car, lands with arms out, and scoops Maggie right off the sidewalk.</p><p>“Maggie, sweetheart, you’re okay,” he says, holding her tight. “What happened? You’ve never used the emergency signal before—”</p><p>“Sorry,” Maggie whispers. It was stupid to use it.</p><p>“No, we <em> want </em> you to use it,” Steve manages to say before Harley cuts in with a retelling of her account. </p><p>“—Three boys stole her art portfolio, and she tried to fight them off, and then Peter—” Harley turns, looking to introduce Peter. </p><p>Peter’s gone. </p><p>“Shit,” Harley says. “Shouldn’t have said the part about Captain America chasing him down...”</p><p>“Language.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, sorry—but Steve, we were going to take him to eat—he looked like he needed it, honestly—I assumed he was a pickpocket the moment I saw him, he looked like he might be desperate enough—”</p><p>Steve frowns. “You’re talking about the kid who was standing with you when I drove up? He split real fast.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Harley says, face twisting guiltily. “I thought he was the reason Maggie hit the emergency button at first. Must have scared him away. Shi...oot. Goshdarnit. I wanted to thank him. Return the favor.”</p><p>“He was amazing,” Maggie gushes. “There were adults walking by and they did <em> nothing </em>. Didn’t try to help me at all. But Peter jumped right in and he’s not much bigger than me, right, Harley? I gotta learn to fight like that. Steve! You promised you’d start teaching me—”</p><p>“Of course, sweetheart,” Steve assures, big hand warm around her shoulders. “As soon as Christmas break starts, right? That’s our deal.” But he’s staring after where Peter disappeared, frowning. </p><p>“I gotta find him,” Harley says. His jaw is set. Usually, Maggie’s heart falls when she sees that because it means he’s going to be obsessed with whatever he’s decided to do until he’s finished doing it, and she’ll be treated as an annoyance the entire time, but right now she’s glad. She hadn’t noticed at first, but now that she thinks about it, she’s pretty sure the clothes Mystery Kid Peter was wearing were all too big or too small, and he had on hoodie but no coat, and she can’t get out of her head the way his face changed when Harley mentioned pizza. </p><p>“I’ll help,” Steve says, “but first, let’s get you both home. Your car still at school, Harley?” </p><p>“Yeah, I figured it would be faster to run when I got the location ping—”</p><p>“Good call. I’ll walk you both there, then come back for my bike and we’ll all drive home. Okay?”</p><p>It’s less than two blocks to Harley’s school. Maggie cranes her neck to look everywhere while they walk, but if Peter is near enough to be seen, Maggie sure doesn’t see him. She stares out the window all the way home, too. Can’t stop thinking about Peter as she eats her own plentiful dinner and crawls into her safe, warm bed.<br/><br/>Maggie tries to go to sleep, but her brain keeps whirring away with thoughts of her mystery savior. Maybe Peter has his own safe, warm bed too. And plenty to eat. It’s not like they can really know. </p><p>She huffs, all thoughts of sleep abandoned, and gets out of bed. Carefully, Maggie sneaks down the hall, taps her secret knock on Harley’s door and tries the handle. It’s not locked, so she lets herself in. </p><p>He waves her over. From what she can see of the screens he has up, he’s hacking into CCTV footage of the street Peter saved Maggie on. </p><p>“You’re going to find him, right?"</p><p>“‘Course. And make a better impression the second time around, I hope.”</p><p>“Yeah, you were a jerk.”</p><p>“Maaaaybe. Next time wait where you’re supposed to be, got it?”</p><p>“Next time don’t attack my knight in shining armor.”</p><p>“I thought you were gonna be your own knight in shining armor.”</p><p>“I’m gonna be <em> yours. </em> And mine. Just give me a couple weeks to train up.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep, squirt.”</p><p>She heads for the door. </p><p>“Maggie?”</p><p>“...Yeah?”</p><p>“I’m glad you’re okay.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Maggie whispers. If Peter hadn’t shown up like he did, she probably wouldn’t be. “You gonna find him? And then we’ll help him? If he needs it.”</p><p>“One hundred percent. <em> Go sleep. </em>”</p><p>She goes. <br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>2. Harley</p><p> </p><p>No-last-name Peter doesn’t want to be found.</p><p>Harley finds him anyway.<br/><br/>“This can’t be legal,” is Steve’s take on Harley’s triumph. “This—Tony, this is exactly the kind of illegal we—we, uh, have serious discussions that will always be responsibly resolved—”</p><p>“Fight. You fight about it.”</p><p>“<em> Find compromise </em>over, Harley, we are mature adults in a loving and healthy relationship—”</p><p>Harley snorts. “Okay, Boomer.”</p><p>“That’s ‘Greatest Generation’ to you,” Steve shoots back, then winks. It breaks the tension a bit, which Harley is extremely grateful for. Dad looks conflicted and guilty, but is trying hard to smooth it over with the <em> mature adult </em> BS Steve was going on about. In the end, it just makes Tony look constipated. </p><p>“Okay, so ground me, take my debit cards until I learn my lesson, whatever,” Harley says, not even bitterly—the hypocrisy going on here is all kinds of ridiculous, and it’s just as thick from Steve “Regularly Disregards Every Kind of Law and Authority in Search of Truth” Rogers as it is from Tony “Hacks the Nearest Database Out of Habit” Stark—but he’s on a mission. No-last-name Peter, Maggie’s Knight in Shining Armor, is Peter Parker. Peter Parker, twice-orphaned foster-care runaway. Peter Parker, star student at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Peter Parker, homeless. Peter Parker, Spider-man. </p><p>(Figures Maggie would attract a literal superhero for backup. She’s got every single Avenger wrapped around her little finger already. Might as well start collecting New York City’s various Vigilantes of Questionable Motive and Character, too.)</p><p>“Look,” Harley pleads. “Look, this kid—he needs help. He helped us. We owe him, right? Does it really matter how many government agencies I hacked to find him?”</p><p>“How many—what were you <em> thinking </em>, Harley? Of course it matters—” Steve starts.</p><p>“Not to mention the mafia-held waterfront warehouse CCTVs,” Dad says at the same time, slipping from stern to proud. “I’m out of the country for two days and you’re stalking the damn mafia?—But hey, nice job there, kid. I sent a tip-off to the FBI, they’re shutting down a major drug shipment as we speak—”</p><p>“<em> Illegal, </em> ” Steve insists. “Privacy <em> matters </em>—”</p><p>“Shutting down a major drug shipment where Peter Parker <em> sleeps, </em>” Harley says, voice rising. “Did you think about that, Dad? He’s going to have to find somewhere new, now, with the Feds crawling all over, cataloguing everything—”</p><p>“What, you were perfectly fine with him sleeping in a mafia hideout?” </p><p>“Of course I wasn’t fine! That’s the whole point I’m obviously failing to get across here! <em> He needs help, </em>we can help him—”</p><p>“Harley,” Steve says slowly while Harley braces for more ‘don’t do illegal stuff like your superhero dad with whom I’m hopelessly in love’ bullshit, but what comes next is Not That. “Have you considered that Peter may not want your help? Or even if he wants it, won’t accept it?”</p><p>“Not if he doesn’t trust us, sure,” Harley says. He has thought about this, and repeatedly told himself that it can’t be the real issue here. “But come on. Iron Man and Captain America swoop in to save you, you get saved and you’re happy about it. Every kid at least <em> dreams </em> about this. It just...doesn’t come true for all of them.”</p><p>Came true for Harley and Maggie though. It’s not fair—super fucking unfair <em> in their favor </em>, and he’ll never stop being grateful for it, but it’s...heavy. There are lots of kids who need just—just a fraction of what Harley has, and their whole lives would look up. </p><p>He feels so damn guilty.</p><p>And when his baby sister needed the protector Harley is supposed to be? Harley wasn’t there. But Peter Parker was. </p><p>“Hey, Harls,” Dad says softly, and steps in close to where they’ve sat Harley at his desk chair. Dad’s fingers brush softly through Harley’s messy hair, smoothing it from his forehead. “You’ve got the best of intentions, we know that. One of many things that make us so proud that you’re ours. But Steve’s got some good points. I’m not saying we’re not going to try—” Harley goes stiff, moves away without leaving his spot on the chair and Dad lets him go, comforting hand falling to his side. “We just need to think about all the angles here. What’s right, what’s legal, what’s possibleand, most importantly, what Peter Parker wants.”</p><p>“Bullshit. No one wants to be hungry. Cold. Alone.”</p><p>“True,” Dad says. “But people want agency. Doesn’t matter if you’ve got pennies or billions.”</p><p>“When my mom died,” Steve startshaltingly, and Harley’s eyes snap to him, intrigued in spite of himself. Steve very, very rarely talks about his past. Any part of his past. “I was—the same age Peter is now, actually. Had nothing left. Except my best friend, and my best friend’s family, and they wanted me to come live with them. They were the best people—didn’t have much, but they had...a good home. They loved each other, were kind to each other. Would have treated me as one of their own.</p><p>“You know what I chose? The opposite. I lived alone, desperate and miserable, and drove Bucky mad refusing everything he tried to give me.”</p><p>“<em> Why? </em>” Seriously, wtf, Steve Rogers.</p><p>Dad slips an arm around Steve’s waist and Steve leans into him. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” Steve explains. “But it was more than that. Had a lot to prove, I guess. To myself most of all.”</p><p>“Let’s hope you’ve grown out of that phase,” Dad says, light and teasing like it’s a joke, but Harley sees the way he holds on tighter. </p><p>“So, what,” Harley says, because okay, Steve shared some super personal stuff and he can kind of see how it applies, but still: “you’re not going to help a homeless kid? A homeless kid who’s a <em> hero </em> ? Not even going to <em> try? </em> ” He says <em> you </em> instead of <em> we, </em> because fuck it if they think they can stop him. Even if it’s just sneaking food and clothes out of the tower, getting a job and donating money, Harley can do <em> something. </em></p><p>“That’s not what we’re saying,” Steve says immediately. “Like your Dad said, you’re trying to do the right thing here. I believe in doing the right thing.”</p><p>“He just thinks there’s a way to do it without hacking,” Dad says, with a stupid Dad wink. </p><p>“Privacy is a constitutional right,” Steve says, frowning. “But what’s done is done. It’s what we do next that matters now. What strategy we take.”</p><p>Harley stares him down with narrowed eyes. “Like what?”</p><p>“Let him come to us. That’s my best bet.”</p><p>“Right. We sit in our billion-dollar tower and wait for a runaway kid to knock on our door like ‘Hey there, Cap, I had a funny feeling you wanted to see me—’”</p><p>“Yeah, you can take that sass down a level there, kid,” Dad says. “How and where, Steve?”</p><p>“Maybe it’s time for Captain America to put in some community service hours,” Steve says slowly. “You tracked him to Brooklyn Community Youth Center, right? He goes there in the evenings? It’s a good enough place to start.”</p><p>“He literally ran at the sight of you.”</p><p>“So it might take a few weeks. The key here is that we <em> don’t </em> act like we’ve tracked him down. Brooklyn’s home base for me, makes sense that I’d be there.”</p><p>“What if he doesn’t have weeks?”</p><p>“He tarzan-swings off fifty story buildings for fun,” Dad says dryly. “I’ve been tracking Spider-man for a while. If he’s survived this long, he’ll make it a bit longer. We’ll need plans B-through-Z, of course, but I like it. Got ideas for things Cap might want to donate to the shelter, Harls?”</p><p>“...Weekly pizza nights,” Harley says, a little bit peeved, but...fine. If this is the extent of the trouble he’ll get in for staying up for 70 hours straight while breaking a whole bunch of laws, skipping school, and basically being a stalker, he’ll take it. For now. “And Taco Tuesday, obviously. And upgrade their wifi, I’m sure it sucks. Phones for the kids who need one—come on, Dad, we’ve got to have a model that’s, like, really sturdy, waterproof, small, can hang on a lanyard and be hidden under clothes, really long battery life, accepts any kind of charger, doesn’t look expensive—fine, I’ll design one. Needs to come with prepaid Spotify, of course—”</p><p>“Now that’s the kind of tech-bender I’m a little more okay with,” Steve says. “But first—sleep?”</p><p>“That’s why I love you,” Dad croons. He gets extra sappy every time Harley acts up, because he’s just that petty. “The Man with the Plan. Sleep is an excellent plan.”</p><p>“I slept for like six hours before you two stormed in here to interrogate me—”</p><p>“And you have roughly eighteen hours of sleep-debt to cash in! Chop chop, child. JARVIS, tattle on him, please.”</p><p>
  <em> “I will tattle most diligently, Sir.” </em>
</p><p>“I hate you,” Harley mumbles. “Not you, JARVIS, it‘s not your fault. Dad, though...”</p><p>“Dad loves you and wants you to be better,” Dad says piously, but Harley catches the shadow of self-loathing that’s unfortunately never really absent when Tony Stark talks about himself. “You’ve been acting a bit too much like me lately. Time to channel better heroes, kid. Hey, look, we’ve got one right here—” he leans up to smooch Steve’s cheek. A cheek that promptly blushes bright red. </p><p>That’s still pretty funny. They’ve been together for what, half a year now? And Steve fucking Rogers still goes bright red every time Dad kisses him in public. He certainly never discourages it, though. </p><p>“Yeah, get out, y’all are gross,” Harley grumps. Accepts a kiss on the head from Dad, a manly thump on the shoulder from Steve. He actually is really, really exhausted. Harley’s also really, really relieved. He’s not 100% on board with Steve’s plan, but at least there is a plan. At least they’re taking this seriously. </p><p>If Captain America and Iron Man don’t fix things for Peter Spider-Man Parker, Harley Keener damn well will, with Maggie’s help. </p><p>Maybe Peter doesn’t want their help. But let him just try to say no to Maggie. Not one super genius, super spy, superhuman, or alien god has managed it yet. <br/><br/></p><p> </p><p>3. Peter </p><p> </p><p>"Have a Holly jolly Christmas...it's the best time of the year…"</p><p>With a silent groan as not to reveal his hiding spot, Peter turns and looks at the ceiling. Why in God's name does the cleaning staff have to be so happy all the time? Like, okay, yes they have to be there and make sure everything is set for the school day and their job is hard. They should be able to use their workspace however the hell they want when they think they're alone. </p><p>But like. </p><p>
  <em> It's five am on a Thursday, man. Can we not with the Christmas music, especially when the season has already passed?  </em>
</p><p>The vents above Peter give a terrifying rattle, and he practically squeaks in indignation before deciding it's time to rise and get the day started. </p><p>As he reaches for his shower caddy, Peter wonders how long he can keep this up. He's been living in ceilings and under staircases in the school for a couple months now (since his last hideout got raided by the goddamn FBI). Surely, <em> someone </em> is going to find out he's hacked the security feeds and has been using school resources. He's going to a school for geniuses. His teachers are geniuses. There's no way someone doesn't know, right? </p><p><em> Whatever </em> , he thinks glumly. <em> As long as I don't have to go back to Jimmy's, I'm not complaining.  </em></p><p>After all, Uncle Ben always said to never kick a gift horse in the mouth. </p><p>The thought of his uncle makes Peter's chest cinch together. He tries to ignore the sweep of nausea. Grits his teeth until it hurts and the pain distracts him. From there, he finds the locker room and spends his shower running through formulas for his trig test under his breath. He closes his eyes, loses himself in the math, and for a little while—he forgets. Peter forgets listening to May when she shoved him into a closet and asked him to <em> keep quiet, honey, don't make a sound. </em> He forgets about hearing the bullets ring out and leaving the closet, choosing to try and stop the bleeding on May's stomach or Ben's neck. He forgets about Jimmy and Karen, foster parents who smacked him every time he asked a question and had locks on the fridge and cabinets. </p><p>He forgets about running away in the summer, and how the cold came and made everything worse. </p><p>How Christmas used to be Ben's favorite time of year, and now Peter's spent it alone in a school ceiling while praying that some miracle could take him away from all of this. </p><p>How New Years, a time of celebration, became him staring at the crowded city and drinking to another year of misery.</p><p><em> You sure get morose in the morning, Parker, </em> he grumbles to himself. <em> Get it together. It's Thursday. Thursdays are good days.  </em></p><p>Well, Thursdays have become good days, ever since Captain America started showing up at Brooklyn's Youth Center. The first time Peter saw him, he hid behind couches and nearly shit himself as the man walked in with armloads of ingredients for tacos on a Tuesday afternoon. Two kids, two very familiar kids, trailed after him with more ingredients. Then they all gathered in the kitchen and began making tacos for the kids and volunteers. Two days later, they came back again to help kids with homework and played games until the center closed. Then,two days after that, they showed up on aSaturday afternoon with box after box of pizza and pasta, sending kids home with to-go containers and full bellies. </p><p>This cycle has been repeating for almost three months now.</p><p>Peter's stomach rolls every time they walk in; is it a coincidence that the week Peter saves a little girl with his superhuman strength, and Captain America is somehow close to her, they start showing up at his favorite youth center? Are they looking for him, tracking him down and wanting him to explain his strength? And if they find him, will they try to make him stop being Spider-Man or arrest him? </p><p>Peter would rather die than stop being Spider-Man. </p><p>So, he stays out of sight when they arrive.Peter gets leftovers by sneaking it when everyone is working on homework or in the rec room, and Captain America is nowhere to be seen. He avoids the little girl who plays with the other boys and girls her age, playing with hair and working on art and trying to organize a self defense class. Peter avoids the kid his age, with a kind smile and a protective stance when he's around his sister, and a slight wariness when it comes to Captain America. He avoids them because, if they're looking for him, there's no way it can be for anything good. </p><p>Except, it's been months, and they haven't tried anything. Captain America hasn't stalked the halls looking for a mutant to reprimand, the kids haven't followed him or tried to approach him, and he simply...hangs back, eats good food, and comes to realize that maybe they don't know he's Spider-Man. Don't want to find him and stop him or arrest him. Captain America just wants to serve the community that served him forever ago. </p><p>Peter can deal with that. Maybe he can finally come out of the shadows and eat pizza with everyone else not have a panic attack at the mere thought of being in the same room as these people. It was possible they didn't even remember him, right? </p><p>Wrong. </p><p>That evening, when Peter joins the other kids for dinner, the little girl he saved—Maggie, he remembers—drops the bag of tortillas she’s holding and beams. Between the bright smile and sunshine yellow hair, Peter considers that she's a little like the sun. </p><p>"Peter!" she exclaims, running at him. Her tiny arms wrap around his waist and her head kind of collides with his chest, enough to draw a little ‘<em> oof’ </em>from him. "Sorry, sorry! I just can't believe you're here!" </p><p>"Hey," Peter manages. He pats her back. "Good to see you again." </p><p>She pulls away from the hug, but her hands only slide to hold his. He's honestly never met a more affectionate person who barely knows him. </p><p>"Do you want a taco?" Maggie asks. "I can make a really good taco.My ratios are better than anyone else's Dad always says. It's in the cheese and tomatoes, honestly, unless you don't like tomatoes—which, I mean, our friendship will be severely tested if so because tomatoes are amazing, but that's a discussion for later. Oh! Guess what? I'm gonna get my Aunt Tasha to come teach self defense classes, so everyone can protect each other like you protected me, you know? God, Harley! Look! Peter is here!" </p><p>Peter follows her line of sight. Standing on the other side of the serving window is her brother, Harley Keener. The guy's face brightens up at the sight of Peter, making him briefly wonder what it was about the Keener kids that meant sunshine. Especially at the sight of Peter. </p><p>Maggie drags Peter towards the taco bar and thrusts a plate in his arms. She's talking a mile a minute about her art and about her brother's genius, and how her mother got remarried and moved to California, so her father swooped in and asked for custody. They were together for Christmas and everyone got along really well, but she is honest enough to admit that she loves living with her father. Well, not her father by blood, but her father in all the ways that count. Harley's the one actually related to Tony, but he's been the one who took care of her for her entire life. </p><p>All of this is discussed by the time they get their drinks and find a seat at a table. Peter doesn't know whether he's exhausted by Maggie, or completely under her spell. </p><p>He considers that it could be both. </p><p>Soon after they take their seats, Harley joins them. He sits next to Maggie before sliding into the same kind of conversation. Peter doesn't mean to engage in it—in fact, he prefers to sit on the sidelines—but Harley tempts him with talk of physics. Before he knows it, he and Harley are deep into debate and time just seems to fly. He hasn't been able to talk like this to someone since he met Ned and MJ. </p><p>"What other subjects are you taking?" Harley asks a while later, mouth full of taco. </p><p>"Trig, Brit lit, gym, and American history," Peter trails off. </p><p>"Ew, history." Harley's nose wrinkles. "The worst subject."</p><p>"It is not," Maggie defends. "You just can't think creatively, or about philosophy and the importance of culture and knowing the past."</p><p>"False," Harley corrects. "I just don't see the point in being tested on random facts to memorize. There's never any discussion on the philosophy of the past or learning from the cultures. We just have to remember when D-Day is."</p><p>"June 6th, 1944," Peter sighs dramatically. At Harley's weird look, he scratches at the back of his neck. "I have a really good memory. And at my school, it actually is about the philosophy and cultures, and learning from the past mistakes on how to make a better future. I'm actually supposed to write a paper about how the second world war changed the American attitude towards foreigners and war and all that."</p><p>Harley's face brightens. "Well, you have to let Steve help you!" </p><p>"Steve?" Peter frowns. He glances to the kitchen, where Captain America is whistling and wiping down counters. </p><p>"Yeah," Maggie agrees. "He's surprisingly a huuuuuuuge nerd." </p><p>"And we owe something to you," Harley insists. "Since, you know, I couldn't be there for Maggie and you were. I feel like we never got to thank you properly. This could be our chance!" </p><p>"Oh, um." Peter swallows nervously. Sitting down and having a meal with these people is different than spending hours writing a paper with Captain America. "You really don't have to—"</p><p>"Steve!" Harley calls waving his arm. "Come here, we need you!"</p><p><em> Shit </em> , Peter thinks miserably. <em> Shit shit shit shit shit. I'm going to meet Captain America. I'm going to meet Captain America. This is insane. This is life changing. What do I look like? Of fuck, it doesn't matter, I'm going to meet Captain America— </em></p><p>"Hey kid," the man himself says, standing in front of him with a soft smile and extended hand. "Steve Rogers. It's a pleasure to meet you." </p><p> </p><p>4. Steve </p><p>When Steve met Peter Parker, he didn't know this would happen. Didn't know that he would have one conversation with the kid and think "I can help. I can help him."</p><p>Peter is just...so painfully young. He's smart, way too smart for his own good, and he likes being smart. Steve notices he doesn't wield his genius like a weapon in the way that Tony and Harley do. Instead, Peter just likes learning. He likes maths and sciences, especially the sciences, and wants to go to school to make advances in the medical field that will save lives. He thinks reading chemistry and biology books is fun. </p><p>He's also incredibly kind. Steve watches him over the next few weeks, how he interacts with others. Peter is constantly aware of the people around him: their needs, their concerns, their joys. Even as Steve sits at a desk, watching Maggie and Peter interact, he knows that Peter doesn’t really understand art. Yet, he tries to engage and understand because when he does, Maggie lights up like Peter Parker hung the moon. </p><p>There’s more to Peter, though. The kid is carrying something around. It’s as if there’s a weight on his shoulders he can barely stand, and you can only see it if you really look. Sometimes, when Peter thinks nobody is watching,he lets his shoulders sag. Tension bleeds from his muscles as his eyes close and he mutters something under his breath, something to center and calm him. </p><p>But then Maggie or Harley catch his attention, and Peter’s right back to it. </p><p>Steve catches moments, though, where the rough life he knows Peter’s had bleeds through in his opinions. Peter tells him over the paper one night that he refuses to believe dropping the Atom Bomb was the right thing to do. It doesn’t matter that it technically ended a war. Was it victory if you had to beat someone into submission?</p><p>“That’s war, Pete,” Steve says firmly. “You make the decision that will ultimately save lives. It sucks, but our world is one where war exists and people die. Japanese forces were not going to stop unless they were stopped, so we had to make a decision.”</p><p>Peter purses his lips. “But at what cost did that decision come? With great...with great power, you have a responsibility to use it in a way that makes the world a better place! What about dropping a bomb on civilians makes the world a better place? We killed women, and men, and children. So did Hitler, so did Mussolini, Stalin, and every other person who’s the ‘bad guy.’ Why was it okay when the U.S. did it?”</p><p>“It’s more nuanced than that, Pete,” Steve sighs, ready to defend.</p><p>“Exactly,” Peter says. “All I’m saying is that it’s not as simple as the Japanese were going to keep killing people. There’s more to it on both sides, and I would not have wanted to be the person making that decision. But it was a horrible thing and the people that died did not deserve it.”</p><p>Steve cannot help himself. He leans forward and asks Peter, “How is it you came to have such strong opinions on power and responsibility?”</p><p>“My uncle,” Peter tells him quietly. Where he’s been tapping a pencil to the table, he stops and looks Steve right in the eye. “Before he died, he had quite a lot to say about what people do with the power we have.”</p><p>“Guessing he didn’t like Trump.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s a hard no.”</p><p>Steve grins. “Good man.”</p><p>“He was,” Peter agrees. “The best.”</p><p>They go back to the paper, but Steve can’t draw his thoughts away from the heavy tone of Peter’s voice. It's one of the times when Peter is open with him, not holding back about his opinion or anything. It’s good, because from there a dam is opened. He and Peter begin talking, really talking, and it gives Steve hope for the future. The kids in the youth center look at the future with terrifyingly bleak perspectives, but none of them seem to think it's okay. They recognize what's happening in the world around them and they want things to be different. They have informed opinions and back up their knowledge. </p><p>They’re looking at the people who came before them and saying “you fucked up our world, and we’re going to do our best to fix it.”</p><p>Kids. Between the ages of ten and eighteen. Actual children, encouraged by the relationship between Steve and Peter, who begin to open up and speak, are passionate about it. </p><p>“You’ve been talking about this kid a lot,” Tony tells him on a date in late January. Steve grimaces as embarrassment washes over him because he realizes how much he’s talking about Peter. “No, honey, you don’t have to be apologetic. You have always let me blabber on about my kids.”</p><p>“I know,” Steve sighs. “But this is about us, and I’ve talked through the appetizer and the main course about Peter.”</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with that.” Tony reaches for his hand, and Steve willingly takes the touch. “I love you. I want to hear about the things happening in your life, and right now, a lot of that is Peter. So talk about him as much as you want, alright?”</p><p>“Alright,” Steve relents.</p><p>“Now,” Tony clears his throat, “where are we on the trusting people front?”</p><p>Steve lets out a frustrated puff of air and dips his chin down a bit. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t think he’s ready for me to tell him that we know who he is and we want to help him, however he’ll let us. He’s got an intense guilt complex and thinks everybody else in the world deserves better. As much as it's killing Harley, I think we need to hold back. I don’t want to jump the second he feels comfortable.”</p><p>“I can handle Harley,” Tony tells him. “You do what you need to do.”</p><p>“You trust me to get this done in my own way?” Steve asks, looking back up. </p><p>“I trust you completely, love.” Tony’s voice is firm but gentle, like he really wants Steve to understand. “And if it's your way, it's our way.”</p><p>“I love you, Tony” Steve blurts, wishing there were more poetic words to say about how he felt for his boyfriend, for this incredible man who deals with him and trusts him and everything in between.  </p><p>Even though Tony's just said it, the force with which Steve’s words come out seem to take him by surprise. He still smiles, however, and brings Steve’s hand to his mouth so he can brush his lips across the knuckles. “I love you too, Cap.”</p><p>For the rest of the night, Steve doesn’t talk about Peter. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>)-(</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Dad said we had to be patient.”</p><p>Steve sighs, casting a look over at Harley. The teenager is holding one of the many boxes of Chinese food they’d ordered for a Saturday at the youth center. </p><p>“Harls,” Maggie hisses from the backseat, “shut up.”</p><p>“I’m just—” Harley groans. “How long are we supposed to let this dude live in the air vents at school?”</p><p>Steve nearly crashes the car. “Harley James, did you seriously—”</p><p>“Double names, really?” Harley rolls his eyes. “And no, I did not hack the security feed. But Peter told me where he’s living when we were playing basketball the other day. His foster parents are shit and he would rather live anywhere else than with them. They don’t care as long as they get a check.”</p><p>“Of course they do,” Steve growls, feeling the steering wheel dent beneath his touch. “And why didn’t you tell me before?’</p><p>“Because you’re not my dad, so I don’t have to tell you everything.”</p><p>Ouch.</p><p>“And because I know you, Steven, and you would have gone and beat people up and made things worse for Peter. He made me promise not to tell you.”</p><p>“And you’re telling me now?”</p><p>“Because we have to do something!” Harley throws his hands up. “He’s put on some weight since we started bringing food around, but he’s still too skinny and he’s still running around the city in pajamas, and he’s still a dummy, and we still need to help him.”</p><p>“I agree,” Steve says carefully. “But we’re playing this on Peter’s time, not yours.”</p><p>“But,” Harley’s voice lowers, “what if he doesn’t have much time? How long can he really keep living like this?”</p><p>Steve can admit that he doesn’t even want to think about that. What he <em> does </em>want to do is run to Tony and beg for a lawyer, wants to bring Peter to their home. He doesn’t just want to help Peter. He wants to be sure nothing can ever hurt him again. Steve wants to curl up on the couch with Tony and look over and see all three kids watching TV and throwing popcorn at each other. He wants to be sure there’s always a warm room, protective gear, and moral support. He wants to help with papers and watch Tony take too many pictures for prom and—</p><p>A rock settles into Steve’s stomach as he processes this. </p><p>He wants to be Peter’s dad. </p><p>With Tony. </p><p>He wants them to be a family. He wants to go to his boyfriend of <em> less than a year </em>and say, “I love you, I love this kid, and I want to adopt him. With you.”</p><p>Steve keeps his face stoic as they pull into the youth center. Peter is sitting on a bench, holding a paper in his hands and looks up as soon as Steve puts the car into park. At the little giggle Maggie lets out and the grin Harley shoots the other kid, the rock is Steve’s stomach doubles in size. </p><p>He’s going to adopt this kid.</p><p>He just has to see how Tony feels about having a third child first. </p><p> </p><p><br/>5. Tony</p><p>Cap had a good reason for running out like he had the world to save. Tony’s sure of it. </p><p>It’s just that this is a really nice restaurant, the kind of restaurant it takes forever to talk Steve into eating at because the prices are apparently ridiculously high and no matter how much money Steve makes, he never gets used to spending it. Or letting Tony spend it instead. </p><p>It’s just that Tony has been planning this date for weeks. Months. Actually he was planning this date before he even dared dream of asking Cap on a date. It was less planning and more fantasizing at that point, but the ideas born in that fantasy were good ones. </p><p>Or Tony really, really hopes they were good ones. Sitting alone across from the chair Steve overturned in his rush to leave (<em> I’m coming, don’t move, stay on the phone with me, breathe, breathe— </em>was all Tony caught of the back end of the phone call that Steve had been so apologetic about taking) leaves a lot of space for doubts. And oh, does Tony have doubts.</p><p>It’s just that: he was going to propose tonight. </p><p>Why didn’t Steve ask Tony to go with him? He would have. Anytime. Anywhere. </p><p>Maybe Steve Rogers doesn’t want Tony to propose. Maybe what they have is enough for him. Maybe Tony’s just...being greedy. (When is he not?)</p><p>Forty minutes later, forty empty-chair-staring, no-contact-from-from-Cap minutes later, Tony goes home. </p><p>The kids mob him before he’s made it out of the elevator. It goes like this: a rush of giddy, squealing joy (okay, only Maggie’s loud about it, but Harley’s got that grin he always tries to hide spread all across his face). A pause of blank confusion. Dread dragging down all of Harley’s happy angles, and: </p><p>“Dad...where’s Steve?”</p><p>Maggie gasps. Tears flood big brown eyes. “He—he said <em> no </em>? But—but—”</p><p>“Hey, hey,” Tony says, Maggie’s devastation mixing dangerously with his own worst fears. He shepherds everyone into the living room, hopes the way he collapses on the couch doesn’t give away the despair he’s trying so hard not to feel. “‘Course he didn’t say no. Why would he say no? I just didn’t get the chance to ask.”</p><p>Harley’s eyes are thin, shoulders hunching angrily, defensively. Tony sees the months of hard work Steve has put into earning Harley’s trust slipping away, just like that. “The hell happened? Dad?”</p><p>“Language,” Tony says tiredly. Ugh, he sounds like <em> Steve. </em> “Something came up. Urgent. I’m sure Steve will be in touch soon.” </p><p>“What came up? Why? Why <em> tonight? </em> You made sure there wouldn’t be any missions—it was gonna be <em> perfect— </em>” There are tears on Maggie’s cheeks. Tony reaches out, smooths them away. </p><p>“Hey now,” he hushes, gathering her up in his arm, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Let’s have some faith, yeah? I’m sure—”</p><p><em> Captain Rogers has checked into the MedBay, </em> FRIDAY intones. <em> He requests clearance for a guest to be admitted and treated.  </em></p><p>“Clearance granted,” Tony orders, already halfway back to the elevator. The kids are right there with him, of course, and maybe they shouldn’t be, but one look at the set of Harley’s jaw tells Tony he doesn’t have time for this fight. “Take us to him. Who’s the guest?”</p><p>FRIDAY doesn’t answer. Which means Steve asked her not to, probably. If Tony loved him any less, he’d program that impossible. </p><p>Tony wouldn’t be Tony if he loved Steve Rogers any less. </p><p>In the MedBay, the three of them lay eyes on Steve Rogers: the love of Tony’s life, literal blood on his hands (soaking half his shirt and smeared in fingerprints on his sleeves) striding up as the elevator door opens, already apologizing. </p><p>“Tony, I’m so sorry,” Steve says. Harley gets between Steve and Tony; sidesteps to cut Steve off again when he tries to move around him. “I know you’ve been calling me—”</p><p>“Who’s blood is that?” That came out harsher than Tony intended. Harley nods along to it like it came out just right, arms folded aggressively across his chest. </p><p>“It’s—” Steve’s eyes, wide with worry Tony is just starting to register, dart from Tony to carefully take in Maggie and Harley’s anxious, angry faces. Steve frowns as his gaze returns to Tony. “It’s not my place to say. You can come see him, I’ll explain everything—but I need the kids to wait here.”</p><p>“Fuck that,” Harley hisses. “Like we’re just gonna stand around while you—”</p><p>“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.” Tony meets his son’s eyes. Holds. Harley gives in with a duck of his chin and reluctant half-step back, and Tony sends up silent thanks. </p><p>For once, no one corrects Harley’s potty-mouth. </p><p>“I’ll keep you two updated,” Tony says softly, a soft hand for each of his kids’ heads. “Grab a snack, play a game, everything’s gonna be okay, got it?”</p><p>“Is Steve hurt?” Maggie whispers. </p><p>“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’ll check though.” With a wink and a final pat, he leaves his kids, and follows the man he thought would end the day as his fiancé. </p><p>This is a much grimmer end that he’d hoped for. </p><p>“It’s Peter,” Steve tells him, short and soft, the moment the Medbay doors have sealed behind him. “They’ve taken him into surgery.”</p><p>“Peter...Parker?” </p><p>“Peter Parker. He called me in the restaurant, I wouldn’t have answered for pretty much anyone else. I‘m so sorry for rushing out on you like that—I could hear it in his voice, Tony. Knew he was hurt real bad.”</p><p>Well, shit. </p><p>“How bad?” Sick dread coils cold in Tony’s gut. “That’s—Peter’s blood. All of this—” he gestures helplessly at Steve’s soaked shirt.</p><p>“Yes,” Steve says. “He—he’s going to make it though. He has to make it—he’d lost a lot of blood before I even got to him—”</p><p>“<em> What happened? </em>”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Steve says miserably. “He was barely conscious when I reached him. Out cold by the time I’d brought him here. He was—Tony, he was curled up in this alleyway, shaking and—and soaked in his own blood—”</p><p>“You got to him in time,” Tony says, reaching out because fuck it all. Steve is in front of him,  Steve needs comfort, and Tony loves Steve. “He called you. That’s what matters. He knew he could call you, and he did, and we’re going to make sure he’s okay. Yeah?”</p><p>Tony moves in close. Steve’s head drops, forehead resting against Tony’s, breathes out shakily. “Yeah,” he says. </p><p> </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, here’s the deal,” Harley says. Life has settled into a new style of normal. Peter lives with them now. Kid’s still wary and wide-eyed; grateful and disbelieving, but he hasn’t tried to run away. And he’d better not try, because Maggie will never forgive him or anyone else if he succeeds. </p><p>“We have a new plan,” Maggie says. Tony’s kids have sat him down for a plotting session—for what, Tony isn’t sure, but world domination is near the top of his best guesses—while Steve runs through a careful workout with Peter, who has been declared wholly healed and ready for gym access, and not a second too soon. Spiderling has been crawling up the walls. <em> Literally. </em> Every member of the family has learned to check ceilings and vents when looking for their guest (Tony gave FRIDAY a note: <em> do not introduce Parker to Barton </em>).</p><p>“If you’re going to ask Steve That Question,” Harley begins, mouth twisting in distaste—“</p><p>“<em> When </em>you ask Steve to marry you—” Maggie interrupts, punching Harley in the arm—“don’t forget Peter.”</p><p>Tony looks at Maggie. At Harley. Back to Maggie. “...I don’t get it.”</p><p>“<em> Peter, </em>” Maggie insists, like this cryptic one-name message is both incredibly important and stupidly obvious.</p><p>“He’s part of us now,” Harley agrees, nodding along to Maggie’s unexplained point. “The two of us have become a three.”</p><p>“Okay, fine, I’m not arguing that,” Tony says, because he is secretly every bit as committed to keeping Peter Parker safe and spoiled rotten in the tower with his own kids as Maggie is. He and the kid haven’t had too much time together in the past few weeks, but he’s something else (Tony briefly thinks, <em> he’s like a little Steve, and really, who doesn’t love that? </em>) “You want me to—what, ask Pete’s permission to marry Steve…?”</p><p>“Um, no,” Harley says, sass creeping up to impertinent levels. “We want to make sure Steve understands what it means to marry <em> you. </em>”</p><p>“You have three kids now,” Maggie says matter-of-factly. </p><p>“You promised us we would always come first,” Harley challenges. “That you would never let Steve or anyone else get between you and your kids. He wants us too or he doesn’t get you. We’re a package deal.”</p><p>“Sure are,” Tony says, softening. </p><p>“We’re just clarifying,” Maggie says loftily. “Making sure no one accidentally forgets that things have changed, you know?”</p><p>“Peter’s part of our package,” Harley says. No room for argument.</p><p>Well, shit. </p><p>Tony throws up his hands in content defeat. “That’s how it is, huh?”</p><p>His son and daughter nod decisively. Tony dares any force on Earth or beyond to challenge his mini power-duo. He really does.</p><p>“That’s how it is.”</p><p> </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>“Say, Rogers,” Tony adds to the tail end of a yawn, reeling in from a luxurious stretch, curling home into his favorite place in the entire universe: Steven Grant Rogers’s arms. Things have been hectic. It’s been too long since they got a morning like this: just the two of them, resting and happy. </p><p>Steve hums attentively, arms circling sure warmth around Tony. </p><p><em> I’m just going to do it, </em> he tells himself. Tony steadily gathers up all his courage—wonders if he’s ever needed quite this much (he’s surely never had the certainty this courage grows out of)—and asks <em> the question. </em></p><p>“How do you feel about—this? Forever. Or, you know, whatever stretch of mortality, sentience, this life and any afterlife we mere mortals are granted—”</p><p>Steve huffs a laugh, warmth puffing Tony’s hair where nose and lips nuzzle almost-kisses into his scalp.</p><p>“I’m serious,” Tony says, pouting just a tiny bit. “Gods and aliens exist, I’m not ruling out an afterlife. And if I get one, I want to spend it with you.”</p><p>Steve stills. His arms tighten around Tony.</p><p>“Any everything that comes before the maybe-after-life,” Tony says, nerves starting to get the best of him. “Life-life. I want to spend my life with you, Steven Grant Rogers.”</p><p>There’s a pause. Steve’s next breath shudders on its way in. Tony feels the vibrations of it in his cheekbone, in the press of his shoulder under Steve’s. “Well, that works out well,” Steve says, voice a little raw, “‘cause I’ve been kind of hoping to spend all of everything with you.” </p><p>Hope bursts wide in Tony’s chest—more than hope: joy, relief, longing—and burns so bright that he’s pretty sure it’s outshining his arc reactor. Tony pushes up onto his elbows and stares down at the man he loves. </p><p>“You sure? You better be sure. Be sure, Steven, no take-backs allowed—”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Steve says instantly, hand coming up to cup Tony’s cheek. Then he bites his lip, caution sliding over open joy. “I do have, um, one question of my own...”</p><p>Tony closes his eyes. Braces. “Anything,” he promises. “Ask me anything. Ask for anything. But first, there’s something I have to add.” He opens his eyes again, catches Steve’s, smiles lopsidedly. “My kids made me promise.”</p><p>“Okay,” Steve prompts, mouth tilting into a smile of his own, then up to meet Tony’s. </p><p>It’s home. When they kiss—every time—<em> home.  </em></p><p>Tony shivers. Melts back until he’s pressed fully against his lover. </p><p>“Right. The addition. So.” <em> He won’t say no. He loves them as much as you do. Say it, Stark. </em>“I know this is—a lot, and kind of crazy, and there’s a lot of legal shit to work out, but—when I told you, from the very beginning, that the kids came with being with me, no negotiations there—”</p><p>“Wouldn’t change it for the world,” Steve promises. “I love them, Tony.”</p><p>“I know. But. Uh. There were two kids then. Now, well, now there’s three—”</p><p>“<em> Tony. </em>”</p><p>“I know, I know, it’s up to Peter, and we’d have to deal with all the bureaucratic bullshit that comes with making everything official and legal, but I’m paying enough lawyers enough money to—”</p><p>“Tony.” Steve’s laughing, and pushing himself into a sitting position, pulling Tony onto his lap and kissing him breathless—</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes?” Tony says, befuddled and confused but very, very happy the moment Steve’s lips leave his long enough to get a word out. </p><p>“<em> Yes, </em>” Steve says, laughing and kissing him again, his cheek, his neck. “Yes, Anthony Edward Stark, you perfect, glorious genius, yes to you and the kids and—Tony, the question I had for you—”</p><p>“Oh, right,” Tony says, bracing again. </p><p>“You already answered it.” The way Steve’s looking at him, you’d think Tony engineered the sun itself. Which is silly, because Steve <em> is </em>the sun. In Tony’s universe, anyway. </p><p>“It was about Peter,” Steve explains. “I was going to ask you if you were willing—if your kids would be okay with—I’ve known for months,Tony. Peter’s ours. My kid. Our kid. It just—it was a big ask.”</p><p>“I can handle big asks,” Tony rushes. “Steven Grant Rogers, will you marry me?”</p><p>“If you’ll have me,” Steve says, blushing and grinning and kissing Tony again. “I’m yours, Tony, always.”</p><p>“God, I love that word,” Tony says. “And you. And our kids. Holy hell, Rogers, we have<em> three kids. </em>”</p><p>“You want more, we’ll get more,” Steve says, and laughs again, and lays Tony down so he can kiss the rest of him. </p><p> </p><p>6. Maggie </p><p>On the morning of the wedding, Maggie stares at her ceiling and cycles through her life. </p><p>She’s always had a good life. Maggie’s father may not have wanted her, but her mother cherished her and her brother protected her, and his biological father--Tony Stark-- chose her. Maggie loves Tony, calls him dad, thinks nobody can touch him. He’s the one who taught her what it meant to be a good person, to look at the world around you and decide to make it better. He uses his talents to help others, and he’s teaching her to do the same. With his heart and his mind and his money. </p><p>There’s nobody like Tony Stark. </p><p>Then there’s Harley:her brother,her best friend,her protector (though she’ll never admit that he really is her knight in shining armor). Maggie’sentire life has been lived with Harley by her side. No matter who they lived with or what city they were in, Harley is there with a shoulder and a laugh, and sometimes illegal activity she definitely doesn’t support. </p><p>(Except she does.)</p><p>Giggling, Maggie rolls to her side and sees a picture of Steve with his arms around her shoulders, standing in front of the castle as Disney. Steve Rogers. Captain America. The man who modeled dedication and taught her about what it really meant to protect those who couldn't protect themselves—even when you're backed into a wall and it looks like you're gonna lose. Steve takes her on ice cream dates and pays for art lessons, encourages her pursuits that aren't academic like Harley and Dad. Steve is Maggie’s confidant. </p><p>She's always had a good family. Her whole life, though, Maggie’s wondered if there was something missing. As a little girl, she used to wonder why she thought Harley was more of a middle child. There were times, sitting around a table made for three, that she thought it wasn't right, it should be bigger. </p><p>Even Steve and the Avengers didn't close the circle. </p><p>So what was it? </p><p>Peter. </p><p>Peter Parker. Maggie loves Peter and his selflessness. He has a weird determination to improve the lives of every single person around him. He protects the people of New York because nobody protected him. He looks like a dork when he drinks milk with dinner (even lasagna!) or snorts at the cheesy jokes in Star Wars. Peter doesn't know how to talk to girls, he walks into walls despite his super senses, and…</p><p>And he braids Maggie's hair. He studies the color wheel to be able to properly comment on Maggie's work. He stays up as they talk about how pretty girls are and the best type of nail polish to wear with their school uniforms. </p><p>He makes sure Dad and Harley eat all of their meals. He learns how to cook with Steve so he can make Natasha her favorite cakes. He laughs way too loudly at Bruce's chemistry jokes. </p><p>Peter meshes with them, complements the holes in their family and does his best to contribute to a home. They have a long way to go, because Peter still seems to think he doesn't belong, but there's something unbreakable with them because they chose each other. </p><p>All of them. </p><p>With a squeal of delight, Maggie throws herself from the bed to get ready for the wedding. </p><p> </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>Everything is beautiful. It's a March wedding in upstate New York with purples and greens all around. Maggie wears a lavender dress and strolls down the aisle with a big bouquet between Harley (Tony's best man) and Peter (Steve's best man). The vows are said without microphones, heard only by the priest and the family that is closest to the front. This moment isn’t going to be heard by the hundreds of people looking on—only by those who love Tony and Steve the most. </p><p>"I don't trust anyone with my heart, Rogers, and I think you know that. I am terrified of being broken worse than I already am, and of someone not being able to look past my arrogance and my anxieties, and the fact that nobody can place above my kids. Then, I met you. You loved me for all I have to offer, and you loved my kids as if they were already ours. I have wanted you for so long that I don't know what it's like to want anything else. And so here I stand, broken pieces barely glued together, and asking you to do it again. Because if you agree to have me, I vow to stand by you until the end of my days. Through every nightmare and every fight, through all the dangers we know in our day jobs. I promise to always bring you coffee the way you like, even if it's gross. I promise to be the one who defends you when you aren’t around and supports you when you are. I promise to continue learning what love means.”</p><p>As Tony finishes his vows, Maggie cries, because Steve looks like that’s all he wants in the world. </p><p>“When we first met,” Steve chokes. “I was homeless and confused and...displaced. I seemed to never be alone, but was so desperately lonely that every night felt like I was stepping into some kind of void. Day by day I felt like I was fading. No family and no friends. No life.”</p><p>“Bleak,” Tony croaks sarcastically, and everyone chuckles through the snot. </p><p>“Until I met you,” he continues, “and you blew my world wide open, baby. All of a sudden, waking up was exciting because most days meant seeing you. You gave me a building to live in and a friend. For so long, I was content, even when I wanted more of your kindness and your dry humor, and your ridiculous bots. I wanted more of your children’s laughter and Saturday night dinners. I wanted everything from you, but couldn’t understand how the bland shell of a person I was might be someone you loved. And then you came to me and you filled me with light and love. I will never forget that, Tony. How you breathed life back into me and how we both understand where we stand in each other’s lives. So yeah, I agree to have you. In return for your love and your faithfulness, I promise security. I promise to apologize when I’m in the wrong and to remind you of your worth, every day until I’m gone. I promise that I’m not gonna get it wrong, but baby...I’m going to give it my all because you deserve that. If you let me, you’ll get it.”</p><p>Their foreheads drop together and Tony’s shoulders shake. Maggie has to hide her face in her flowers and Harley squeezes Peter’s shoulder because he looks like he’s gonna break. </p><p><em> We’re a family, </em> Maggie thinks as rings are exchanged and people cheer and cry and--</p><p><em> Almost </em> , she interrupts her own thoughts. <em> Almost.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
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</p><p> </p><p>It's in between the ceremony and the reception. Maggie knows from movies and stories that this is the quiet time for the newlyweds to have a moment; to revel in their marriage. It's why it's a little surprising to her that her father requests her presence in a private office. </p><p>"What's this about?" Peter asks as she walks into the room. He must have received the same summons. </p><p>"I don't know," she says, though she feels like she might know. She's pretty smart, after all. "We should just wait for dad." </p><p>Peter nods. They sit together on a couch in the office. It doesn't take long for Harley to come in, followed soon by Dad and Steve. The two are clasping hands, though Dad's free hand is holding an envelope and there's a pen in his mouth. </p><p>"So," he says without preamble. "Steve and I are married " </p><p>Harley snorts. "We were all there, Old Man."</p><p>"What he means," Steve interrupts, "is that we like to think we're all a family now. An official one." </p><p>Peter shifts uncomfortably. "Should I be here..?"</p><p>"Yes." Tony tosses the envelope to him. "How do you feel about last name Stark, Underoos?"</p><p>Peter stares at the envelope in his hands before looking up with wide eyes. He stammers, unable to settle on one thing to say. He looks so confused and hopeful and just—raw. So far from the boy who saved her. </p><p>"Are you serious?" he asks, voice cracking. "You want—"</p><p>"To adopt you?" Steve says quietly. "Yeah, kid. We love you. I love you."</p><p>"Mr. Stark barely knows me," he says. "And it’s only been a few weeks, I-”</p><p>“Am a part of this family,” Tony tells him. “Pete...we’ve been wanting to help you, to take care of you for a long time. Even before I knew you, I wanted to make sure you were alright. It’s okay that we don’t know each other that well. Steve adores you. You’re Harley’s best friend. Maggie thinks you hung the sun in the sky.”</p><p>(She really does.)</p><p>“You don’t have to decide now,” Steve steps forward, “and you don’t have to say yes.”</p><p>Maggie comes forward too, grabbing Peter’s hand. “But you’re our family, Peter. Whether or not it's official.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Peter looks down at her, soft as always, and smiles. “Is this your fault?”</p><p>Maggie scoffs. “Do you think I have that much power?”</p><p>All four males in the room respond with a resounding ‘Yes.’</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” she pouts. “Peter, we all love you. And we’ll take you however you want, but…”</p><p>Maggie steels herself and reaches into the pocket of her bridesmaid dress. Out of it, she pulls a piece of paper neatly folded and hands it to Peter. Steve sets a hand on her shoulder while they watch him unfold it. He gasps a little as he traces fingers over her art. </p><p>“Maggie,” he whispers. “This is your family crest, the one you were working on--”</p><p>“When we met,” Maggie finishes. The coat of arms still carries the shape of Steve’s shield and the arc reactor, her paintbrush and Harley’s wrench, but she’d added something new. “The spider is obviously you.”</p><p>“I know what this means to you, Maggie, this piece of paper is--”</p><p>“My deepest wish,” she finished. “It’s all of ours, Pete. Everyone says it's your choice, and I know that, but...please. Please say yes.”</p><p>Peter rubs roughly at his eyes. “Well, shit, Mags. Can’t really say no to that, now can I?”</p><p><em> There we go, </em> Maggie thinks with a sigh of relief. <em> Now we’re a family. </em></p>
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